Detergent
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: Laundry detergent is involved in an accident. Much FourTris fluff.


_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. So, if you look in Insurgent on page 52, Tris mentions how she's supposed to work in the laundry at Amity (but she ended up fighting with Peter and getting high. so this is . . . slight AU?). And what does laundry have? (Hint. The title. Lookie!) So this was an opportunity too tempting to pass up. Not after all the detergent jokes we've shared. XD**

**~ Tris's point of view ~**

An Amity instructs me with a kind smile the great, complicated ways of the Amity laundry room. A washer pumps from their water system and their dryer tosses different hues of yellow into a smooth, seamless circle. Perhaps it's because of my confused face or because I'm a simple refugee, but I'm given the job of folding clothes.

A long wooden counter stands in front of me, coming almost to my elbow. I stand on tiptoes, too proud to ask for a footstool, and fold yellow shirts of varying sizes. I pass them off to Susan, who then stacks them according to size and gender. This is Abnegation work, actually. The Amity, though, are far more communal than the Abnegation. The Abnegation live their separate lives, despite always trying to help others. Amity helps each other because they believe unity leads to peace.

I remember my mother folding clothes in our living room. Caleb would step in and help her and I, realizing the opportunity, joined them. Caleb's and Mom's work was so neat compared to mine. But my folds now are approved under the eye of Susan, and so that is the only expressed approval she shows as silence hangs between us. A few Amity operating the machines and bringing in baskets of dirty laundry have conversations in soft, gentle voices. I imagine they're talking about the increase in clothes since the Abnegation refugees have come.

Part of me doesn't feel guilty because of that. The way I grew up was everyone helping everyone else out without complaining. But Dauntless has woken my pride. I hurry with my work, somehow making amends, a payment, for my being here.

Once my last shirt is folded, I hear a voice say, "Beatrice, would you help me organize these supplies?" The voice is familiar, like home.

I turn to see Robert. His hair has grown shaggy, his face rounder, his eyes kinder. The Amity seem to radiate life. They celebrate life here. All the factions do.

"It's Tris, now, actually," I say. Interesting that we were assigned for the same day. I smile, though it's forced. "How are you, Robert?"

"I am doing fine, B—Tris," he says. His face softens, his lips pulled down. Sad. "I heard the news. Details, of everything." His parents were murdered. As were mine. He can't be doing fine. He smiles a little. "At least Susan is here." Then he grabs a container holding sponges and bottles of detergent. I can only imagine what Caleb would say if he could see this homemade chemical solution the Amity grow the ingredients for. It's like he's reciting facts from a book passage every time he opens his mouth, I swear.

I grab a container and turn to join Robert at the shelving unit, but it all happens too fast. Swinging out my arms, the container collides with a body; a detergent bottle falls out and breaks upon the floor, covering the wood in a puddle of blue goo; at the same time, the body's feet slip in the puddle and with a crack! slams, back down, against the floor.

Everyone exclaims or gasps or gapes; I'd smack a hand against my mouth if my tiny hands weren't the only thing keeping my container from falling onto the stomach of Tobias.

The wind knocked out of him, it takes him a moment to react to the exclamations after him. Amity, like parents helping a knocked down child, grip his arms and pull him into a sitting position. They inquire of him if his head hurts, check for any blood or injuries, and I just stand there like an idiot. Can't breathe, can't speak, can't react. The wind was knocked out me in, with a cold, quick sensation down my back. _What did I just do to Tobias?_

When he finally talks, he says, "Usually I walk into situations knowing the dangers beforehand." This garners a few laughs from the Amity. Good humor is a good sign.

He stands up, refusing any insistence, and exits the room rubbing his neck. Gradually everyone goes back to work and I silently work, like a statue with stiff limbs, in helping Robert put the other detergent bottles and sponges onto the shelves.

The moment I have my leave I run all around the Amity farm, searching for him. How can I harm the only person I love? How could I be so stupid? How can I walk clear-headed into life-or-death situations and yet not even have the sense to watch where I am moving?

Of course I run into him around a corner. Of course I do. I almost fall, almost cause him to become unbalanced. But I catch myself, my hands on his arms to support me, and then I tip my head so my forehead is against his chest. With panting and my eyes closed, my hands rise and wrap around his torso. I breathe in and out, causing his shirt to flutter beneath my mouth. His hand presses against my hair so my cheek lies against his chest, his fingers stroking my rough cut hair.

He doesn't say anything until I look up at him. He presses his lips together, strokes hair out of my eyes. "It was an accident. Forget it. 'Kay, Tris?"

"Yeah," I say, breathing out deeply.

"You and I, we're good," he says. "Don't worry. We're good."

I inhale and lay my head back against his chest. I hear and feel his heartbeat pump beneath me. Still living. Still breathing. That's all I need right now. That's all I need to hear right now.

He's fine. So yes; we're good.

**Fluffy little one-shot. :3**

**Thanks for reading! God bless you!**


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